Let's Pretend The World Is Mine
by WhiteFerrets
Summary: My collection for the 2010 forum-wide competition on HPFC. All challenges completed.
1. Marks

**A/N: Title of this collection inspired by "The World Is Mine" by Alex Day.  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

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Week: One  
Word Prompt: Mark****  
Task: All participants were given different word prompts, which we had to use with at least two different meanings throughout our entry.  
Summary: Remus isn't feeling too well, and Sirius isn't going to let him suffer.**

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The Gryffindor Common Room was a hushed place, filled only with the noise of scratching quills and flipping pages, drowning out the whispers of younger students. When anyone dared to speak up or enter the room in a noisy fashion, the Fifth and Seventh Year students would immediately snap at them to shut the hell up. When anyone decided to be annoying, to kick the table or tap their quill on the desk, they'd soon be sorted out. Why, you may ask, is this environment so?

In one word, one simple word that even the dumbest of people could understand: exams.

OWLs and NEWTs were coming up, stressing the Fifth and Seventh Year out immensely. Even students like Peter Pettigrew and Mary McDonald were caught studying after lessons, desperate to make their final mark higher at the end of it all.

The portrait opened and a messy, ill-looking Remus Lupin stumbled through. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he shuffled through the room and fell with a sigh next to Sirius, who sat cross-legged on the floor, frowning over a book. However, he looked up as his friend collapsed beside him.

"What's up with you?"

"My head is killing me. I can't concentrate."

"You look like you've been chased by a dragon or something."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if I ripped half of my uniform in stress."

"And you've got chocolate on your..." He trailed off, licking his thumb and swiping it over the side of Remus's mouth, like a mother would to a small child, cleaning the chocolate off. It was only after he'd done it, and was in the process of licking it from his thumb, that he'd realised what he'd done. He froze, and Remus blushed, as an awkward silence settled between them.

It lasted a few minutes as Sirius watched Remus carefully and the younger boy kept his eyes on the floor. Eventually, Remus broke it with, "Yeah, um, I stained my shirt quite a bit, too."

"I noticed," Sirius said, smirking.

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sticky with sweat, before rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Sirius closed his book in an instant, stood up, and held out a hand. He couldn't watch his best friend suffer.

"Come on, you're going to bed."

Remus looked at the hand for a moment under hooded lids, before taking Sirius's hand and pulling himself up. His hand slipped out of Sirius's, but Sirius kept hold of his wrist and he led him up the stairs to their dorm room.

"Sit." Remus sat on his bed obediently, shifting restlessly as Sirius retrieved him a pair of grey pyjamas, throwing them on the bed beside them. Wordlessly, he crouched down and started to undo Remus's shoes, pulling them off. He looked up to see Remus watching him.

"You'll be more comfortable in pyjamas, you know."

"I can change myself, you know," Remus retorted.

Sirius held up his hands in surrender and shuffled away, still sitting on the floor. "Okay, okay. I'm no where near you now."

"Don't look," Remus warned, standing up slowly and reaching for the top buttons of his shirt.

Sirius snorted. "Like I haven't seen it all before." But when Remus glared, he sighed and turned around. "I'm not looking. Happy?"

Remus merely grunted in response, started to unbutton his shirt. He turned his back on Sirius, just missing Sirius turning around and peeking. His shirt dropped to the floor, and Sirius bit back a sad sigh at the scars on Remus's back, each one a memory, a sign, a mark, reminding him of what he was every time he looked in the mirror or glanced down at himself. It upset Sirius, knowing how much pain Remus went through every month, but not truly understanding because he'd never had to experience it himself.

"Hey, don't peek!"

Sirius apologised quickly and turned around, starting to throw his book between either hand in order to distract himself. Remus changed quickly, keeping his eyes on Sirius's back, sure to stop him from peeking again. Sirius flirted with Remus a lot, a joke between two close friends, and it was obvious how much he cared for the Marauders, but he had never been as mothering as he was acting now, what with the cleaning and the changing. It was weird, even for Sirius, to show such affection.

"Done," Remus said, falling back onto the edge of his bed.

Sirius caught his book one final time and twirled around, spinning his way onto his feet. He stood there for a moment, looking at Remus's exhausted face as he perched carefully on the bed. "Moony, just get into bed," he said simply when Remus showed no sign of moving. Remus glanced at him curiously for a moment before obeying orders and crawling up the bed, under the covers. He followed Sirius with his eyes as the Black made his way up to his bed, sitting beside him. Sirius ran his hand through Remus's hair, smiling slightly as Remus closed his eyes at the touch.

He pulled out his wand and waved it at the windows, muttering a spell Remus had taught him to darken the glass. Remus opened his eyes blearily at this, smiling his thanks at Sirius before closing them again. Sirius rested his hand on Remus's cheek, who leaned into it instantly.

"You need to stop pushing yourself, mate," Sirius said quietly. "Get some rest." He sat there for a while, watching Remus as he drifted off, waiting to hear the quiet, tell-tale signs of slumber. As Remus started snoring softly, Sirius knew he was finally asleep, and so he leaned down and placed a kiss upon his forehead.

He hesitated for a moment, leaning over his friend, before standing up and crossing the room, sitting on his own bed. He opened his book again, knowing that he didn't really have to study to pass at least half his NEWTs, but admitting it would help get a couple extra marks.

But even as he tried to study, even after James and Peter had joined him in the dorm to avoid the eerie, hushed atmosphere of the common room, he couldn't stop his eyes flickering to Remus's sleeping, snoring, peaceful figure across the room.

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**Word Count: 1,067  
Number of meanings used: Three  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	2. I've Had Enough

**A/N: This is inspired by 'Face Down' by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

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Week: Two  
Characters: Anthony Goldstein, Lisa Turpin, and Blaise Zabini.****  
Task: We had to choose a character from our house, along with any other character(s), and write a fic about them.  
Summary: Anthony hated seeing her suffer, but Lisa just wouldn't leave that pathetic excuse for a boyfriend.  
**

* * *

Lisa stood in the boy's bathroom of the Ravenclaw tower in nothing but her underwear, arms wrapped around herself insecurely. As much as she tried not to, she couldn't stop herself from looking in the mirror. Her limp, short hair fell into her face as she kept her head low, tears pouring down her cheeks silently. Her skin, once clear and healthy, was now disfigured by purple and yellow bruises, running up her legs, her stomach, her arms.

There was a shuffle behind her and the door opened, but she didn't turn around. She heard the boy behind her sigh sadly, watched his reflection as he walked over, wrapping his arms ever so gently around her stomach. He threw the pile of clothes he was carrying onto the counter, resting his chin on Lisa's shoulder.

"Lisa," Anthony whispered, "why can't you just leave him?"

"Because he loves me," she whispered back, her voice faltering through tears, leaning into her best friend's hug, "and I love him."

"You don't."

"Did you get my make-up?"

"I asked Padma to bring it up."

Lisa looked at him as if he were insane, pulling out of the hug. "I can't let Padma see me! Not like this! She- she- she'll go crazy!"

"Ssh, Lisa, it's alright, I won't let her see you. I'll be right back. Change into those," he said, nodding towards the clothes. He turned her around, kissed her forehead, and slowly – reluctantly – left the room.

Lisa sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks, wincing when she felt a stabbing pain in her cheekbone, remembering the force of the blow that caused it. She shook out the clothes Anthony had left her, holding them in shaking hands. She pulled his trousers on but they drowned her, leaving her incapable of not treading on the bottoms of them. As she shrugged into his white school shirt, she couldn't help but notice the new, large bruise spread across her stomach. She remembered how painful it was to be thrown into the table, stifling a sob. She covered her stomach up by wrapping either sides of the shirt around her, holding them in place with one hand while the other ran through her hair.

She froze.

As she pulled her hair back, she'd noticed a bruise forming just in front of her ear. That would explain the headache. In her shock at the new-found bruise, she loosened her grip on the shirt, and her attention was drawn to yet another dark bruise upon her left breast. It was all too much – the pain (_inside and out)_, the grief, the desperation … she couldn't handle it.

With a cry, Lisa fell to the floor, feet tucked beneath her as she sobbed hopelessly into her hands, dark hair falling around her. There was a flurry of footsteps and Anthony came running into the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it, jogging over to Lisa and throwing her make-up bag on the side before joining her on the floor.

He scooped Lisa up in his arms, lifting her onto his lap easily. She buried her head in his shoulder and threw her arms round his neck, sobbing as he held her silently. He rocked her back and forth, making shushing noises, as if she were a wailing baby in need of attention. A long while later, her sobs began to quieten to sniffles and gasps.

"I can't let him treat you like this."

Lisa shook her head furiously. "He- he- he won't do i-it again."

"You say that every time, Lisa!" Anthony snapped. "And then he just goes and does it again! I'm sick of it."

"He loves me," Lisa murmured pathetically, snuggling against Anthony. He held her close against him, unwilling to let her go, unwilling to watch her suffer.

"One more time, Lisa, and I swear, I'll rip his balls off."

"Ant!"

"I'm serious!"

They didn't press the matter any more and Lisa slowly started drifting off into an uneasy sleep, muttering "He loves me." as she went. Anthony didn't move for a while, just holding his best friend in his arms, but eventually, he carried her to his bed. The sun was only just setting but regardless of that, he changed into his pyjamas and slipped into the bed with her, cuddling her from behind, his arm the only source of protection she needed. He fell into an uneasy sleep, stirring at the slightest noise, paranoid and cautious.

When Terry entered the room, saw the two of them cuddled on the bed, he winked cheekily before settling down, himself. By that point, it was too dark to see the bruises across Lisa's body, for which Anthony was grateful. Lisa didn't want anyone else to know, and although Anthony disagreed completely, he stood by her wishes and kept quiet.

In the morning, Anthony awoke the instant Lisa's body twitched next to his. She yawned, stretching and turning over, resting her head on Anthony's chest.

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He hugged her back silently, unsure of what to say. Conversation didn't seem to matter, though, because within minutes, Lisa retreated to the bathroom, undoubtedly intending to cover up the bruises with make-up, like she always did. Before _he_ started abusing her, she was a natural girl, tending to stay clear of make-up. Nowadays, she hardly ever stopped wearing it, covering up each bruise, each mark, with an expert's carefullness.

Anthony waited outside the door impatiently, pacing, tapping his foot, looking around hopelessly for something to distract him. But finally, half an hour later, the door opened, and an entirely different girl stood before him. Her skin was flawless, the stunningly healthy colour no longer surprising Anthony. Her eyes showed no signs of previous crying, no puffiness or reddened skin. She held her head high, her back straight, an act of confidence that only hiding could make her feel.

"I guess you'll go and get changed now, won't you?"

Lisa smiled weakly. "Yeah. It's Hogsmeade today. We're double-dating with Draco and Pansy."

"Good luck with that."

"They're not too bad. For Slytherins, at least."

"Please don't go. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I have to. I can't stand him up."

"You don't want to be with him," he accused, though his voice showed no emotion.

"We love each other, Ant," Lisa said sadly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"Look me in the eyes and say that, Lisa. Go on, do it. Look me in the eye and tell me you love him. You can't, can you?"

"Anthony, stop it, please." Lisa looked so helpless, eyes glued to her feet, wringing her hands, a faint blush showing through her make-up, but Anthony couldn't let it go.

"No. Not until you admit it."

Eyes lit with angry tears, she snapped her head up and glared at him. "I love Blaise Zabini," she said through clenched teeth, "with all my heart. Happy? I said it."

"You're lying. You clench your teeth when you're lying."

"Shut up!"

"Look, Lisa, I'm not going to pick a fight with you. I just hate seeing you like this, and he doesn't deserve you. _Merlin_, Lisa, he doesn't deserve anything but a taste of his own medicine." Lisa turned without another word and made her way to the door, but Anthony stopped her before she could open it. "Lisa? You know I'm always here, right?"

Without looking at him, she whispered, "I know," and left within seconds.

And Anthony let her go, not knowing that she'd be back later that night, fresh wounds scattering her body, bawling over Blaise. And still, she refused to leave him, claiming she loved him. Anthony could only hope that, soon, Lisa would realise she was nothing but Blaise's punchbag, and leave him. He couldn't do anything, not without upsetting Lisa, and despite the desperation within him aching to help, he sat on the sidelines, watching as time after time, she ran to him with new tears and bruises for him to brush away.

He couldn't wait to hear her say the words "I've finally had enough."

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**Word Count: 1,456**

**Originally, this exceeded the 3,000 word limit, though I had intentions to cut it down while editing. Reading through, I noticed how awkward and unrealistic the second half (involving Blaise) was, so I cut it out. I like this how it is, however. I'm glad I got rid of the second half.  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	3. Malleus Maleficarum

**A/N: Not keen on this one, to be honest. But maybe you'll like it?  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

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Week: Three  
****Set: Two. Numbers used: All (but _"it's expected"_ is very subtle).  
Task: Choose one of the sets of prompts given, and incorporate at least five of them into the fic.  
Summary: Lily sneaks off at night, and James follows.  
**

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Lily walked carefully on tiptoes, the stone floor freezing her bare feet. Now, she wished she'd thought of pulling a pair of socks on, or digging out her long-forgotten slippers. She also wished she'd thought of wearing her dressing gown, as the too-small, faded, orange nightie wasn't providing much warmth. And maybe, just maybe, it would have made more sense to bring her wand instead of carrying a candle on it's saucer-like holder.

But she didn't think about any of that when she left her dorm, her mind focused only on getting to the library without getting caught. She thought she heard a rustle behind her, turning and searching with wide eyes. Nothing. Taking deep breaths, she walked on, keeping the candle low so she wouldn't disturb the sleeping paintings. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears, but she couldn't turn back. She _needed _to get to the library.

Another rustle. She twirled round quickly, nearly losing her footing in the process. The flame came dangerously close to her nightie, and she instantly held it further away from her. She pushed it towards the darkness in front of her, trying to find the source of the noise.

"Who's there?" she whispered, shaking. No one answered.

She backed up a few steps, looking for a few moments more, before turning and continuing her journey, walking quicker, trembling with fear.

She started to recognise the corridor, realised the library was just around the corner, and immediately sped up, almost jogging now, trying to keep the candle as still as possible.

And then she was there, the tall doors looming above her. She reached out a shaking hand, wrapped her fingers around the handle …

"Trust you, Evans. I should have known."

Lily screamed, dropping the candle and spinning with wide eyes. The flame flickered as it fell, disappearing the moment it hit the ground. She was cloaked in darkness, unable to see a thing. The voice had been right beside her ear, tickling her with it's warm breath. Lily recognised it instantly.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice watery and desperate.

There was a chuckle, a rustle, and suddenly, all she could see was a bright orange t-shirt. She heard him mutter "Lumos", and her vision returned completely, the hallway lighting up.

"Potter, what do you think you're doing, following me around in the dead of night?"

"Evans, what do you think _you_'_re_ doing, _sneaking around_ in the dead of night?"

He had a point. "Shut up."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, what makes you think that?"

"You have tears in your eyes."

Lily sniffed and rubbed her eyes hastily. "They're angry tears," she snapped, looking away.

"So, why are you coming to the library at stupid o'clock in the morning?"

"I need to find _Malleus Maleficarum_."

"I hate to break it to you, Love, but that's in Germany."

"Don't call me Love," said Lily, "and we have a copy of it here. It's in the Restricted Section."

"What are you planning on doing: starting witch trials again?"

"Don't be _stupid_. I need to check something."

"And that something couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"What, you mean when the library is open and Madam Eyes-Like-A-Hawk Pince is there? I think not."

"Okay, you have a point. But still, why not just get a teacher to give you permission?"

"This can't wait, Potter, so if you'll excuse me, I need to find that book."

He stepped forward, catching hold of her before she could turn around, and all Lily could think about was how close he was. She could feel his body just centimetres away from hers, his breath tickling her hair, his feet touching hers.

"Potter, there's a thing called personal space. I want mine back," she said quietly. She tried to move away, but the door behind her. She reached around, grabbing the handle, turning it, stumbling into the library. James followed without hesitation, hand falling away from her arm.

"Want me to help you look?"

Lily turned and walked quickly down the isle, towards the back, letting the moonlight guide her way. "Not really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Tough luck. I'm helping."

Lily sighed. "You're insufferable."

But conversation was pulled to a halt as they reached the Restricted Section. Lily pushed at the gate, but it was under lock and key.

"See, you need me," James said cockily before casting _Alohamora_ on the padlock.

Lily stuck her tongue out and pushed the gate open. Once James was through, she pushed it closed in case anyone decided to come into the library and search around – any sign of intrusion would undoubtedly raise alarms.

"Okay, Mr Smartass, since you seem to know what you're doing, find it for me."

"Ah, I won't take that fun away from you. Get looking, Gorgeous," he said, winking cheekily.

Lily huffed and stalked over to the first row of shelves, knowing that James was making her work unnecessarily. He helped, too, scanning over the titles of books with the tip of his wand.

They searched for what seemed like hours. Lily's arms ached, her eyes were drooping, and she couldn't stop yawning. In those few precious seconds between yawns, however, the dust flying around her nose made her sneeze. Repeatedly.

"Hey, we match!" James said, laughing. "I just noticed."

Lily turned round to look at him, eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry, what?"

"We're both wearing orange."

Lily shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and went back to searching.

Another hour passed and she was on the brink of exhaustion, stumbling from shelf to shelf, looking over titles without taking them in, eyes fluttering closed in desperate need of sleep. James, however, still seemed fairly awake, other than the occasional yawn. Lily assumed he was used to all-nighters, plotting the Marauders' latest scheme or something.

A sudden wave of dizziness took over Lily, disorientation getting the best of her. She clutched at her head, groaning as she fell to the ground, eyes scrunched closed.

"Evans!" James ran over, putting an arm around her. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Lils?"

"Don't call me Lils," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm fine … I'm just feeling a little dizzy."

"A _little _dizzy?"

It felt as if it had faded, so Lily slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to look at James. And then it hit her again, full force. She let out a moan as she curled into a ball, hiding her head on her knees. Her stomach knotted in discomfort, making her nauseous.

"James, I don't feel good," she murmured, leaning into his touch.

"Want to go back?"

"I need to find the book."

"Is it really that important?"

Lily nodded, and she heard James sigh.

"Fine. Accio Malleus Maleficarum." There was a rustle of pages and a thud as something landed in James's open hand.

Lily glared at him. "Why couldn't you just do that at the beginning?"

James shrugged and handed the thick tome to her. She looked at it with wide eyes, careful not to move too much as James lifted her up bridal style.

"Potter-"

"I'm not letting you walk. Not in your state."

Lily sighed, too tired to argue, and hugged the ancient book to her chest as he started to walk. He shifted her onto one arm as he re-locked the gate, and then again as he shut the library door. Despite her feelings (or lack thereof) towards him, Lily snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, too exhausted to worry about what he'd think.

He carried her back to the Gryffindor Common Room, ignoring The Fat Lady's grumbles as he shuffled through the hole. Despite Lily's feeble protests, James took her to the boy's dorm room, laying her down on his bed and tucking her under the covers.

"Potter, I want to sleep in my own bed," she protested, sitting up.

James merely pushed her back onto the bed and shushed her. "You'll wake the guys up if you keep talking like that. I'll sleep on the floor; you just go to sleep."

"But-"

"No. I don't know what could happen to you when walking up those stairs; I'm not letting you get hurt."

James took the book from her hands, setting it on the bedside table, pressing her against the pillow again. He kissed her forehead before sliding onto the floor, where he pulled out a blanket and a cushion from beneath his bed.

"You know that book is written in Latin, right?" James said thoughtfully as he got himself comfy (or as comfy as possible, at least).

"Of course, Potter, mm'not stupid."

"Kay. Just checking. What do you need it for, anyway?"

"Alice. She's been haffin' weird dreamsss lately."

The slur in Lily's voice suggested she was close to slumber, so James didn't bother keeping the conversation alive. "Night, Evans."

"Night, Potter," Lily yawned, already starting to drift off.

She fell asleep thinking about James, about how genuine he acted when she was ill, about how he really did care, about how he seemed like a sweet guy overall. She didn't once think of his cheeky and arrogant side, his self-confidence and cheesy pick-up lines that annoyed her to no end. She didn't think about the annoying smirk or infuriating wink of his, nor did she think about how he acted like such a smartass. No. She thought only of the positives, and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Maybe Potter wasn't all that bad.

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**Word Count: 1,752**

**The Malleus Maleficarum is a real book, latin for "The Hammer of Witches". It was published in the 1400's by a witch hunter who wanted to convince everyone else that witches were real, and teach them how to find/kill those witches. It _is _currently situated in Germany (in the German Historial Museum), like James said. I watched a documentary about it before I wrote this, and I decided to include it, because it really interested me ^.^  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	4. Je t'aime

**A/N: CREDIT TO THEPANDORICA FOR THIS PAIRING.  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

* * *

Week: Four  
****Characters: Justin Finch-Fletchley (given), and Gabrielle Delacour (chosen)  
Task: Write a romance fic about your given character and another, who isn't in your house.  
Summary: The progression of the relationship between Justin and Gabrielle, told in six parts.  
**

* * *

**I.**  
They first met at Hogwarts on the second day of May, 2008. Ten years since the fall of Voldemort, wizards and witches from all around the world gathered at the castle in memory of the losses, of the scars, of the deaths, on the same date as the Final Battle, just like they did every year. Memorable wizards made speeches, while the crowd mourned silently. Their speeches were similar to the ones they'd made the year previous, but people still listened with keen attention.

Twenty-one year old Gabrielle Delacour hadn't been able to attend any of the previous gatherings due to school and, for the past three years, work. Now that she was here, the atmosphere was overwhelming, and she spent most of her time soaking it in. She couldn't help but notice the handsome man standing apart from the crowd, hands in pockets, head drooping. He looked awkward, out of place, like he didn't belong.

And before she knew what she was doing, she excused herself from her sister and brother-in-law, pushing her way out of the crowd, rushing towards him.

"Bonjour," she said quietly.

He raised his head at her voice, and his mouth dropped open in shock as he saw the beauty before him. "Uh, hi. Do you speak English?"

"Yez, I do. You'll have to es'coose me, 'zo, eet's not very good." She held out a hand. "Gabrielle Delacour."

He looked at the hand briefly before shaking it. "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Eet's well to meet you, Justeen."

Justin smiled at the slip-up. "It's _nice _to meet you, too, Gabrielle."

**II.**

They didn't see each other for another year after that. Gabrielle returned to France, Justin worked in London, and they hardly thought of each other, though neither of them forgot. It was at another memorial that they _(literally) _bumped into each other again.

Gabrielle had been focusing on finding her baby niece, Victoire, who had waddled away amongst the crowds. Justin hadn't been looking, eyes on the ground and hands in pockets. And they collided, walking straight into each other. Gabrielle stumbled backwards, but Justin caught hold of her arms before she could fall.

"I'm sorry," they both started to say, their words fading as recognition began to sink in.

Justin smiled. "Gabrielle, right?"

"Yez! You remember me?"

"Somehow, yeah, I do."

"Justeen. Wow. I didn't 'zink I would see you again!"

"Neither did I."

And their conversation continued throughout the entire ceremony. Justin helped Gabrielle find little Victoire and return her to Fleur, who cried with relief and kissed both of them on the cheek.

Once the ceremony was over, Justin invited Gabrielle to The Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer, and she happily accepted. They talked well into the night, consuming drink after drink, until they were tripping over their feet on the way home. He took her to the Burrow, where she was staying for a couple of weeks.

He caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. She blushed and looked at her feet.

"Don't forget about me."

"I couldn't eef I tried."

**III.**

Three months and a few conversations with Gabrielle later, Justin arrived at his office to a small bouquet of blue flowers and a note.

_Je t'aime bien.  
Penses-tu comme moi toi aussi?_

It wasn't signed, but Justin didn't need a name to know who had sent it. His French wasn't fantastic, but he knew enough to translate the note. He smiled and picked up a quill.

_Of course I like you. I thought it was obvious._

He used the work owl to send the note to the Burrow, where Gabrielle was practically living nowadays. He got back to work, though he did little that day, fantasies of Gabrielle distracting him.

**IV.**

They met that night at a Muggle pub – one of Justin's favourites – and the old Hufflepuff was shocked speechless when he saw Gabrielle. Her slender figure was complimented by the most amazing, baby blue, knee-length dress. It was simple and elegant, with a low neckline and a dark blue belt around the middle. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and Justin couldn't believe how much more beautiful it made her.

"Bonjour," she said, smiling softly.

"Hi," was all Justin could muster. He took her hand, and her smile widened as he led her into the pub. They ordered drinks at the bar before retreating to a deserted corner, and they talked, just like always. Justin had always been somewhat socially awkward, struggling to find words to say, but with Gabrielle, it was hard to _stop _talking once he'd started.

**V.**

The night went on, and before he knew it, they were walking hand-in-hand along the road. Gabrielle was giggling insanely as she stumbled along beside him, falling into him often. Too soon, they reached his house.

"I guess 'zees ees goodbye."

Justin reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her hear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. "It doesn't have to be," he whispered, and she looked up at him, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Justeen, I- I don't 'zink I am reedy vor 'zat!" she said, blushing.

"Gabrielle, I'm not asking you to sleep with me," he said with an awkward chuckle. "I'm just asking you to spend the night with me."

"We will not do eenyzing?"

"I'm not going to force you."

"Oh, 'zank you, Justeen!" She hugged him and grinned, before letting him guide her into his house.

Holding her hand, he led her up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he found something for her to wear and directed her to the bathroom. Once Gabrielle had left the room, Justin quickly stripped down to his boxers before pulling an old t-shirt over his head.

Grabbing the bouquet she'd sent him, he followed her path. He knocked on the door and when he heard a quiet "Yez?", his hand moved to the handle.

"Are you dressed?"

"Yez."

"Can I come in?"

There was a pause, and then another, "Yez."

Holding the bouquet behind his back, Justin entered the bathroom. She had her back to him, facing the mirror, and she looked his reflection in the eye as he walked towards her. She looked amazing in his baggy top and boxers, hair flowing over her shoulders, Justin couldn't help but smile.

"We match," he joked, his smile widening.

She turned slowly, smiling back at him. He pulled one of the flowers from behind his back and tucked it in her hair, stroking her cheek with his fingers. The contact made her gasp quietly, and they stared at each other silently for several moments before either of them dared to move.

His hand rested on the back of her neck as he moved his head forward, ducking down to reach her, eyes closing. His lips were mere inches away from hers, but he hesitated, waiting for some sort of rejection. "Gabrielle," he whispered.

"Justeen," she breathed, eyes fluttering closed as he moved closer.

Their lips met. Justin's stomach flipped in excitement and his heart raced as she bought her arms up around his neck, kissing him back.

He'd had his fair share of girlfriends before, but this kiss was the most amazing kiss he'd ever experienced. He didn't even know what exactly made it so fantastic, but it didn't need a reason. Kissing Gabrielle Delacour made him feel _wonderful._

**VI.**

Many months later, Gabrielle and Justin sat in a Muggle park near Gabrielle's home town, enjoying a picnic beneath a summer sun. The two had spent all day together after a week of work keeping them apart, and they had loved every second of it.

"I don't want you to go back to Eengaland after 'zis. I'll mizz you so much. Eet's not vair!"

"I'll miss you, too, Gabrielle, but I have to work. And so do you." He pulled her in for a kiss, and like always, it made his heart race. As they broke apart, he held her close, resting his forehead against hers. "Je t'aime."

Gabrielle pulled back in shock, as it was the first time he'd said that, and for a moment, Justin's heart dropped, afraid she didn't feel the same way. But then she grinned, pulled him against her and kissed him more passionately than they'd ever kissed before.

"Je t'aime aussi."

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**Word Count: 1,546**

**FRENCH TRANSLATION:  
- The note said "I like you. Do you like me, too?"  
- At the end, they say "I love you." and "I love you, too."**

**THANK YOU:  
Tat- for help with the French.  
Lucy(ThePandorica)- for letting me use Justin/Gabrielle.  
All my friends on a different site- for the support and calming words while I spazzed over this (especially Huge, who knows hardly anything about Harry Potter, and is _always_ there for me).**

**Without you lot, this story would either be completely unbearable, or unwritten. So thank you.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	5. I Don't Know Anything

**A/N: I used the same song for the title and inspiration of this oneshot, as I did for the title of the collab. Yay!  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

* * *

Week: Five  
****Characters: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger  
Song: The World Is Mine (I Don't Know Anything) by Alex Day.  
Task: Use 1-4 lines of a song for inspiration, with characters from a House you haven't used yet.  
Summary: Draco just can't find the right words, and now, he regrets sending that damn letter.  
**

* * *

_And the pen is stronger than any sharpened sword  
But everything I write to you makes me feel like a fool  
I don't know anything._

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, quill clasped tightly in his right hand, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He was slightly surprised it hadn't broken, actually. The sun had set long ago and he now relied on a candle to provide him light. His floor was already littered with pieces of parchment, each one a failed attempt, a mistake, not quite what he wanted. He felt so foolish, though he knew he had to take action before his nerves made him back out.

And so he persisted, determined to get it right. His hair stood on end after many frustrated tugs, and the bags under his cold eyes made him look like a member of the living dead, clashing horrifically with pale skin. He dipped his quill into his ink pot and moved his hand over the parchment, trying again.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_It has come to my understanding that-_

Too formal. Without even putting down his quill, he scrunched up that piece of parchment and threw it over his shoulder, ignoring the gentle thud as it hit the foot of his bed and landed on the floor.

_Granger,_

_I want to take-_

Too rude. Despite calling each other by their last names whenever they passed each other in the hallways of the Ministry, writing a letter to her in such way made him seem like a child. He sighed and let that piece of parchment join the others on the floor.

_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_I, Draco Malfoy, would like to-_

No, no, no. That didn't work in the slightest. Using both the first and last name was unnecessary – it sounded stupid. There was a rustle as that ball of parchment hit another, and the two skidded in opposite directions.

_'Mione,_

_I was wondering-_

His hand froze as he remembered that she hated nicknames. She liked to be called Hermione, and anyone who dared to shorten it got an earful of complaints. Besides, who was he to act as if they were friends? Draco scrapped that. He leaned back in his chair, running his hands down his face and through his hair, huffing. He rubbed his tired eyes, bit back a yawn, and picked up his quill again.

_Keep it simple_, a voice in his head told him, and that's exactly what he did.

_Hermione,_

_I know we've never really gotten along in the past, and we've never really given each other a chance, but I'd like to turn those tables. Are you up for a Butterbeer on Saturday evening?_

_Draco._

He signed and sealed it before he could back out. He rushed over to his owl and tied it to her leg without a second thought. She ruffled her feathers and clicked her beak in annoyance, but when Draco opened the window, she flew off without hesitation.

And then his panic attack started. What had he just done? Did he seriously just ask Granger out? It was what he wanted, there was no denying it, but he didn't think he'd actually be able to do it. She'd laugh at him, surely, take the letter as a joke. She'd come into work with a smirk on her face, drop the letter in his lap, make a witty comment while his heart tore in two.

Draco fell onto his bed with a groan, hiding his face in his hands. That letter was so stupid. A mocking voice read it over in his mind, exaggerating, teasing. _I want to turn the tables. Oh, Granger, I love you! Run away with me, we can be happy together, I know it!_

Draco groaned again and punched his pillow. He was such an _idiot_. He didn't understand what made him act so dumb, because he wasn't. At Hogwarts, only Granger was stopping him from being top of the class, his job required brains, and his friends were always asking him for answers to tricky questions. But when it came to girls, he was hopeless. Lust and seduction came naturally to him, but actually trying to get to know a girl, to try and like her for more than her body, seemed like such a challenge for him.

Because, when it came to girls, he didn't know anything. And although he'd never admit it, he couldn't help but wish he had the confidence to treat girls with the respect they deserve. Chatting them up and getting them in bed was easy, but taking the time to learn everything about them took a huge amount of courage that Draco wasn't sure he had within him.

And now he'd made a fatal mistake, thrown himself into something he wasn't prepared for, and pulling himself out would be difficult. He could either run from it and relax, or face it with shaky knees and a sweaty forehead. He should have just ignored his feelings, forced himself to find someone else.

If he hadn't been so tired, maybe, he would have stopped sooner. If he hadn't been so stressed, maybe, he wouldn't have even sat down to write that letter anyway. If he hadn't been so insane, maybe, he wouldn't even have feelings for Granger.

He punched the pillow once more before throwing his face into it, sighing loudly as he pondered over what to do. A few minutes later, a flutter of wings announced his owl's return. He gave her a small mouse and took the letter while she chomped away happily.

On the back of Draco's letter was her reply, one simple word that sent Draco's mind reeling. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach churned unpleasantly, and all the quick, anxious thinking was making Draco's brain hurt. For Merlin-knows how long, he sat on the edge of his bed, flipping the parchment around, staring at it aimlessly, wondering what made her say what she did.

_Okay_

The word stood there, plain as day, and all Draco could think was how much easier it would be if she'd said no. Sighing, he threw the parchment onto his bedside table and lay down for an undoubtedly restless sleep.

* * *

**Word Count: 1,113.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	6. Into The Mind

**For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

* * *

Week: Six  
****Characters: Draco Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange  
Task: In first person, write a missing moment we heard - but didn't get to read - about, involving characters from the House(s) you've written least for.  
Summary: Aunt Bellatrix is preparing and protecting his mind just like any evil aunt would.  
**

* * *

_"'Ah ... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?'  
'I'm not trying to conceal anything from _him_, I just don't want _you_ butting in!'"  
_**- Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy; Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Bloomsbury); Chapter 15: The Unbreakable Vow; Page 302.**

.&.**  
**

The world spun and my stomach twisted painfully as Aunt Bellatrix pointed her wand at me again. The sun hadn't even risen yet, not properly, and already, I wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for days. I tried so hard to fight against her, to push against the spell, but she crawled her way into my mind.

Images of Hogwarts floated around on the back of my eyelids, playing a movie for me and Aunt Bellatrix. The grounds, the Great Hall, the Slytherin common room, the Room of Requirement, the dungeons. I continued fighting against her, trying to push her out, but it only ended when she lowered her wand, ending the spell.

Panting heavily, I looked at her through my heavy eyelids, trembling and sweating with effort. "Aunt Bella, I-"

But my words were cut off as she pointed her wand at me again, crying "Legilimens!" The room spiralled until everything went black, and I pushed against her spell as hard as I could. A few seconds passed before she broke me, rummaging through my memories as if they were items within an old, forgotten box.

Me with Goyle and Crabbe, laughing evilly. Me with Blaise, wrestling playfully. Me with Daphne, genuine smiles on our faces. Me with Pansy, leaning in for a kiss.

"Ooh," I heard Aunt Bellatrix cackle. I could almost picture her leaning forward in interest. "and who's this, eh, Draco? Not Parkinson, surely? Oh, Dray, I thought you had better taste than a _Parkinson_."

The spell ended and I felt my knees giving way, but I refused to fall. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, ran a hand through my hair, and looked at Aunt Bellatrix. She stood several inches away in a torn, black dress, her curls falling over her shoulders. According to my mother, even after twelve years in Azkaban, she never lost an ounce of her beauty.

"Aunt Bellatrix, please, I need a break," I said, my voice shaky.

"A break?" she said, as if shocked. She slowly tilted her head to the side and walked forward, looking me in the eye. "A break? Do you think the Dark Lord would allow you to rest if he were teaching you? Do you think a member of the Order would allow you to rest if they were uncovering all of your secrets? I am teaching you for your own good. The sooner you learn, the better. So no, I will not let you _have a break_."

"Aunt Bella, I can't-"

"Yes, Draco, you _can_." She took my face in her hands, forcing me to look in her eyes as she repeated the instructions I'd heard many times before. "Clear your mind, breathe deeply, and focus on _nothing_. Make a wall – a barrier."

"That's what I've been doing!"

"Then try harder, Draco, _try harder_." And then she rose her wand and attacked me with the spell before I had a chance to prepare myself. I instantly pushed against it, and I managed to hold her off for longer this time, but eventually, she smashed my wall and invaded my mind once again.

I was bullying a younger student, a Hufflepuff, and Crabbe and Goyle were laughing behind me. I heard Aunt Bellatrix giggle in approval as I shoved the Hufflepuff against the wall and pressed my wand to his throat. And then the image changed, and I was walking behind Potter, Weasel, and Granger. I taunted Weasel about his money and his house, saw him clench his fist. Granger shot out a hand and grabbed hold of Weasel's elbow, glaring at me. They hurried away, and the image changed.

"Filthy little mudblood!" My voice hadn't broken back then. It was weird, watching my twelve-year-old self, rather surprised at how much I'd changed. And then the image changed, and I didn't look much different, except my hair wasn't as slicked back as it had been in the previous memory. I was standing just inside the castle doors, listening to Hagrid cry over Buckbeak.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" I said. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

And then Granger appeared out of no where, slapping me hard across the face. "Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil –"

The spell broke, and Aunt Bellatrix cackled at the last memory. I glared at her, wiping sweat from my brow. Moments later, she hit me with the spell, and I didn't even get a chance to fight before she'd broken in.

Images of Granger at the Yule Ball, of Potter playing Quidditch, flicked by at the speed of light. I could barely make sense of one picture before another one whizzed past. Images of my parents and teachers and House Elves flew by at the same speed and I grew increasingly dizzy. I felt myself fall, heard myself cry out as my knees slammed against concrete, and winced as my hands followed suit, pushing my shoulders back painfully from the force.

But she continued delving into my memories as if nothing had happened, and I didn't have the strength to fight her off any more. I didn't even try, letting my hair fall into my eyes as my head hung low, gasping for breath. It seemed to go on for ages, faces and places and snippets of conversation coming and going, and I felt like throwing up.

Suddenly, the room was back, and when I opened my eyes, I could see the concrete beneath me. Aunt Bellatrix hooked a finger under my chin and lifted my head up, and I noticed she'd knelt down so she could come face-to-face with me.

"Draco," she said, her voice gentle, almost friendly … patronising, "what ever is the matter?"

"I can't do-" But then I saw the look on her face, and I knew whining would do no good. So I murmured, "Nothing," and pushed myself to my feet, running my hand through my hair and closing my eyes as I prepared myself for her next attack. I felt her hands on my shoulders and I held back a shiver. She moved her hands up my neck, grabbing hold of my face, and she pressed her forehead against mind. Warily, I opened my eyes.

"Aunt Bellatrix? What are you-"

"Clear your mind, Draco," she said quietly. "You can do this, I know you can. You're a smart boy, a strong boy – if you just try, you can _do_ this. Believe in yourself, clear your mind, and fight me off."

She moved back and raised her wand, and I cleared my mind as best as I could, closing my eyes again and getting ready. I fought her off, just like she said, but I couldn't hold it up. The moment she broke through my guard, she stopped the spell, lowering her wand. She looked me up and down before turning around.

"Meet me here in three hours to try again. You need some sleep." She turned back and looked at me again, adding, "And then you could do with some Butterbeer, too."

Sighing, I followed her out of the room, trudging my way up to my room. I frowned at the floor as I internally beat myself up. I _was_ strong and smart enough to do this. I knew I was capable deep down, but why wasn't I able to do it?

When I reached my room, I put my mind at rest, collapsing onto my bed and shuffling under the covers, still fully dressed. I dozed off easily, but I slept restlessly. Two hours later, I woke up just as exhausted as I'd been before, but anyone who argued with Aunt Bellatrix was a fool, and so I drunk the Butterbeers she threw at me and put on a brave face, preparing myself for more Occlumency lessons. I had four weeks of the summer left, four weeks to make a difference, to learn how to block off invaders.

I could do this.

* * *

**Word Count: 1,406  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


	7. Drunken Mistakes

**A/N: This isn't my best work, and it's the shortest thing I've submitted throughout the entire competition, but I can't make it any longer, and inspirations fails me. I don't think it's too bad, though.  
For: The forum-wide competition on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter****  
House: Ravenclaw

* * *

Week: Seven  
****Fanon Pairing: Draco/Blaise  
Canon Pairing: Draco/Pansy  
****Task: Break at least one canon pairing with your given fanon pairing.  
Summary: Alcohol can make Draco do the most bizarre things.  
Clarifications: This is set in Sixth Year, and Draco is stressed because of his work on the Vanishing Cabinet, not that Blaise knows about this.**  
**Out of ten, I rate this competition: 8.5 ... or maybe a 9 ... definitely not above a 9.8, because there's _always_ room for improvement (get the reference and I'll love you forever). I'm gonna miss it so much.  
**

* * *

Blaise was so close to him, he could shuffle half an inch and find himself touching him. He turned his head, looking at Blaise, and his face was even closer than he thought. He was looking forward, and Draco watched as he tipped his head back and bought the bottle to his mouth, taking a swig of Firewhisky. He saw Draco and he turned, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Draco mumbled, looking at his lap briefly before gulping down some of his own Firewhisky.

The boys sat on the floor of the Slytherin common room, leaning against the sofa. The floor was cold and hard, but they were too drunk to care, quite content with sitting there at two o'clock in the morning, downing alcohol as if it were a lifeline, shirts unbuttoned despite the chill. Draco looked at his hands.

"Why'd you do this?" he said, his words slurring together.

"'Cos you've been stressed. Fort I'd give ya a chance to relax."

"Thanks."

"No prob, mate."

The room fell silent again, except the sloshing of Firewhisky as they tipped their bottles up to their mouths. Draco looked at Blaise again, but Blaise was too busy drinking to notice. Draco didn't mind.

After a few minutes of watching his best friend, Draco reached forward and held Blaise's chin, gently moving his head sideways. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Blaise's, experimenting. Before that night, before the alcohol started working it's way through his system, he would never have thought of kissing Blaise. But now, all he could think was how much he wanted it, and how great it felt.

He pulled away after a few seconds, nervous about Blaise's lack of reaction. Blaise stared at him for a moment, his eyes portraying no emotion as they looked into Draco's. His gaze dropped to Draco's mouth and he moved forward quickly, kissing Draco eagerly. Draco responded instantly, excited and light-hearted. Blaise, drink still in hand, broke the kiss to straddle Draco. He knotted the fingers of his free hand in Draco's hair and didn't hesitate in re-initiating the kiss.

"We should-" Kiss. "-probably-" Kiss. "-stop."

"Are we-" Kiss. "-going to?"

"Nu-uh."

Grinning at Draco's decision, Blaise put his drink aside and used both hands to rub Draco's shoulders beneath the fabric. Despite the frantic nature of the kiss, he eased Draco's shirt off as gently as he could. It fell down to Draco's wrists, and as he lifted his hands, it slid off easily.

Draco's hands made their way around Blaise's back, beneath his shirt, pulling him closer, while Blaise knotted his fingers in Draco's hair again, pressing their lips together harder.

"Blaise." Blaise took this as a sign of encouragement, a sigh of pleasure, and smirked into the kiss. But then Draco's hands moved to his friend's chest and pushed him away slightly. Blaise rested his forehead against Draco's, frowning. "Blaise, I have a girlfriend … Pansy will be-" But already, Blaise had lost interest, moving his head down to Draco's shoulder. He planted kisses all the way up his neck while Draco tried to talk, but the blond just ended up babbling, stumbling over his words. "Okay, okay," he murmured, grabbing Blaise's head and smashing their mouths together.

After that, Draco had no desire to think of Pansy, and so he blocked her out, dedicating his every thought to Blaise and the kiss. He didn't once think _I'm straight_ or _this has to stop_, but instead, could only think _wow_ and _Blaise _and _Merlin_.

And although he'd wake the next morning with a killer hangover and a painfully strong pang of guilt, he knew that that night would go down as one of the best nights of his life because something that amazing couldn't be forgotten.

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**Word Count: 667  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated (:**


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